Ex Tenebris Lux
by Laura Andrews
Summary: What happened to Lord Rhoop after he was rescued from the Dark Island? Sequel to 'In Darkness Let Me Dwell'. Bookverse, multi-chapter.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N_

 _I couldn't stand to leave Rhoop on the Dark Island, so here is what happened after he was rescued. It's complete, too, so you don't have to worry about my famous habit of posting part of a story and then never finishing it :) Enjoy!  
Ex Tenebris Lux - Out of darkness, light_

 **Chapter One  
Even the Night Will be Bright Around You**

He had slept. These were Rhoop's first thoughts. He had slept as sound and sweet as an infant. His eyes opened on sunlight and of a sudden tears coursed down his cheeks. It could not be a dream. This was waking at last. Shafts of sun fell on the table where he had slept for he did not know how long, and he raised his head, blinking away the tears, to find that the king was looking on him with a great pity in his face.

Rhoop half turned away. So many things he had to say, and he did not know how to say a one of them. He could scarcely believe that he had reason left to think anything.

"Sire," he said. He drew a deep breath and wiped his eyes. "I am most humbly grateful …"

The king held up his hand.

"You were every man loyal to my father and were punished shamefully for it. You most of all, my lord. It was not only my sworn duty, but also my honor, to find and rescue you. I trust you slept well?"

"Yes, sire." Rhoop looked into the face of the king, a face he had never thought to see again. How very like his father he was! And yet there was something more: a graciousness and a gentleness which Caspian the Ninth had lacked. A light in his eyes, too, as of a man who had been shown things not revealed to other mortals.

"I have returned from the end of the world," Caspian said. "or as near as I could go. Your friends have awakened."

His friends. How often on that island he had wished they were with him. But now. They had never come for him. Was he expected to greet them as if he had forgotten the years of terror and sorrow?

Caspian turned and beckoned, and a moment later three men approached. Very different they were from the men he had set out with. Their hair had gone gray to varying degrees. Argoz' hair was silver, Revilian's grey peppered with remnants of black, and Mavramorn's was the color of iron. They stopped a short distance away and Caspian withdrew with a slight bow.

Rhoop stared at them, and they stared back. Emotions welled up in him which he could not keep back.

"Where were you?" he burst out. "Why did you leave me?"

The words were those of a pitiful child; the old Rhoop would have forgiven and forgotten all before he would have spoken in such a manner. But he had small dignity left, and their abandonment cut his wounded soul like a knife.

Mavramorn stirred and came toward him. The other two held back and dropped their heads.

"My lord Rhoop," he said, sinking to his knees and reaching out his hand like a supplicant before a king. "There is nothing we can say to make up for the years. It was not for lack of love for you that we left you. Indeed, it was not our intention. We have heard what you suffered."

"But why?" Rhoop looked down at Mavramorn and again the tears started to his eyes.

Mavramorn opened his mouth but seemed too overcome to speak again.

With his head still bowed, Argoz spoke.

"When you had gone," he said. "we debated amongst ourselves as to the nature of the island. The sudden disappearance of the storm struck us with dread, and none of us liked that you had gone. You seemed not yourself at the time, as if overtaken by enchantment, and this also made us fearful. We decided to take you back on board, willing or no; but as we prepared to lower the boat we seemed each to hear our own worst fears and nightmares; they grew so terrible and so real that we turned the ship and began rowing with all speed, though we did not know which way to go; and after a very long time we emerged from the darkness into the sunlight. To our shame, none of us dared return into that darkness."

Argoz and Revilian stepped forward and knelt beside Mavramorn.

"We do not ask your forgiveness," Revilian said. "for we do not merit it. The bonds of friendship were broken, and we have no excuse for our cowardice."

Rhoop listened to all in silence. He could not have spoken even if there had been anything to say. Then he turned and walked away slowly. He had long held the faint hope that they had been simply unable to return. He had staved off madness sometimes by repeating that the ship had sunk, that they could not rescue him because they were dead. His friends … his friends! They had left him for seven years, because they were afraid. Not one of them had rebuked the others and turned back to the island. He did not know where he was going, only that he must get away and be alone.

Alone. The word struck him like lightning. He had been alone for seven years! He stopped in his tracks. Alone. He dropped to both knees and buried his head in his hands. They had not burdened him with asking his forgiveness and for that he was grateful. But that small courtesy could not erase the wrong they had done him.

He had grown up with Mavramorn; they had been the truest of friends, so he had always thought, closer than brothers, and had once vowed each to defend the other to the death.

Revilian he had met at court as a very young man, drawn together by their common love for fine wine and old books. A friendship had sprung up, strengthened by their loyalty to Caspian the Ninth and their suspicions about Miraz.

He had always looked up to Argoz, who was older by eight years than he. Argoz had taught him everything about court life, diplomacy, and law, and Rhoop had looked on him not only as a teacher but as a friend.

And they had all, to a man, deserted him. They had felt the sun on their faces after a black night and had denied him the same. They had gone on, just as they had gone on after Restimar and Octesian had met their demise. But Rhoop had not been dead! He had been alive!

What was there to say when all was said and done? For seven years he had lived his nightmares. Was it possible to have less to live for than when he had been on that dark island?

Seven years. The weight of them bore down on him. Seven _years._ How had he survived so long? And for what? To find his friends false friends?

For a long time he knelt in the grass, too heartbroken even to weep, until a light hand fell on his shoulder. He looked up to find the woman he had seen only at a distance before, the daughter of Ramandu. Her flaxen hair fell to her shoulders and she seemed to glow with a gentle light.

"My lord," she said. "The meal is laid on the table. Will you not come and eat?"

"No, my lady," he said. "If it does not offend you, I will stay here."

"You will at least take some wine," she said, and held out a glass with her left hand. "The food and drink here are for the refreshment not only of the body, but of the spirit."

He stood and took the glass with a bow and raised it to his lips. The wine was cool and smooth, and as he drained it the fierce ache in his breast eased a little.

"Do not judge your friends too harshly, my lord," she said as she turned to go. "Remember that they are but men."

They were but men. But was a coward a man any longer? What was a friend if he deserted you?

"I would have done differently," he said aloud, though Ramandu's daughter was out of earshot. "I would have done differently."

Yet how could he know? If he had been on a ship, and had escaped the terror, would he have gone back for one man, no matter how dear? Or for ten men?

"I do not hate them," he murmured. "I cannot. I endured the terror and it is ended."

He still could not face them. The men in his memory were friends; the men who had knelt before him in shame were strangers. He did not hate, but could not forgive. So he wandered the island.

Rambling flowers and vines overgrew everything in a profusion of wildness and life. Stillness and peace reigned, unlike the stillness of that other island. The sun shone down, warm but not harsh. Warmth and light. Everything he had longed for.

As evening fell he came to the eastern end of the island and gazed out at the sea with the breeze rippling his hair. Darkness had come over it, and far above him the stars, exceedingly bright, shone on the rippling water.

The fading light did not trouble him. He had been in the dark for so long and yet here it had no terror for him. Wholesome, rich with the smell of ancient things, it came naturally after a day full of sunlight. It would be no hardship to stay on this island for the rest of his life, if Ramandu gave him leave; here he might find full healing.

As he thought these things, the earth shook and trembled. He turned, his heart pounding with a mingled fear and longing. A bright light came towards him. As it came nearer, he saw in the light a lion, huge and golden. His legs became weak, but he stood still as the lion approached with a tread which, though soft, made the ground quiver. He stopped less than an arm's length away.

"Do not be afraid," the lion said.

Rhoop dropped to one knee, trembling, not daring to look him in the eye.

"You are the one," he whispered. "You led us out of the darkness."

"I am." The lion's voice was low and rich. "Look on me, my son."

He dared to raise his eyes. The golden mane was only inches from his face. The lion's eyes were full of a gentle reproach.

"My son," said the lion. "You have endured long sorrow and fear, yet you never cried out to me. I would have comforted you even in the darkness."

"I didn't know," he said in a faint voice. "I thought you were only … only a tale. I didn't know."

"Do you now?"

"Yes. But …"

"Say on. Do not fear."

"But I don't know _you_ , sir. How can I speak to you if I don't know how?"

"You will learn much of me, my son. There are many who know me well, who had never heard so much as my name before."

Silence fell, as rich and deep as the lion's voice. He stooped his head down and breathed on Rhoop, a long breath warm as a summer's day, heavy with the scent of flowers and spices. It flowed into him and through him, and for a moment he could hardly breathe; but when at last he drew in a breath the heaviness of his heart had gone. No bird in the air could have felt lighter than he.

When he opened his eyes the lion had vanished, but the scent lingered in the air.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**  
 **The King's Man**

He lay that night in a bed of fern that for its softness might have been goose down and satin. Above him the arms of ancient oaks reached towards the star studded sky. The constellations were strange to him, bright as spears and so near that he could almost reach out and touch them. They pierced his heart and at that moment, at least, he let himself think of Gwen.

Hers was the name he had held when everything else, even her face, had been lost to him.

"I will wait for you," she had said as she clung to him on that last day.

But after so long! He could not even wish, for her sake, that she had done so. He wished her to be happy. Perhaps she had married and had the children she had always longed for.

"Aslan," he whispered, recalling the name that the king had called on in the darkness. "Aslan. If I return and she is not mine …" He drew a shuddering breath against the pain that welled up in his heart. "Let me give her up without bitterness."

It was only too likely. She may not have been the court beauty, she may have been plain in the eyes of some, but she was clever and capable, and her smile … The ache began in his heart again. Her smile. Could he bear to ever see that smile directed to another? How could he bear it?

He had set out on the voyage, high of hopes and dreaming of the glory he might gain as the first to discover new lands for Telmar. He knew the real reason he was sent away, but still the lure of adventure had tempered the knowledge and given it a romance in his mind.

He had always intended to come back. But now. He supposed nothing ever turned out the way people intended. If she was happy, it was all he wanted. He would find happiness in that knowledge, even if her joy was in another now.

He suddenly felt very old. He had caught a glimpse of his reflection in a silver platter at Aslan's Table, had seen the shock of white where the hair had once been chestnut brown. He, the youngest of all the lords, now looked their elder. Would she even recognize him now?

Self pity almost overtook him. How unjust life was! To some, undeserving, happiness was meted out in double measure. From others, all was taken away. He had never asked much; the love of his childhood sweetheart had stood in the place of great riches and fame. But all too likely he would find her as changed as she would find him. A gap greater than simply the sum of the lost years would lie between them.

He forced back the thoughts as they came at him. No, he would not pity himself.

"Help me to bear it," he whispered. "I do not wish to cause her pain. Oh Aslan, let me not cause her more pain."

Almost at once sleep overtook him, deep and dreamless.

In the morning he made his way back across the island to Aslan's Table. He saw Caspian and the star's daughter talking together, a little apart from the rest of the group. Mavramorn, Argoz, and Revilian sat together at the table. Their posture spoke of the weight that rested on them. The feast spread before them seemed not to interest them. Rhoop saw that they sat in the same order that they had always maintained: Argoz on Mavramorn's left, and an empty space between Mavramorn and Revilian. Rhoop's seat. He did not know if they sat thus through force of habit, or the hope that he would return.

He came to the table. After an entire day and night of fasting, hunger revived with the sight of food. He hesitated for a moment and then slid into his seat beside Mavramorn.

None of the three noticed him at first, deep in their own thoughts, but then they each looked at him, quick, shamed glances, shifted in their seats, and became very interested in their food.

The sailors of the Dawn Treader trickled in to join the feast and eased some of the tension. The food, good enough for a king's feast, was to Rhoop like the taste of heaven itself. Yet he did not find himself eating more than he needed; it filled him and left him satisfied. Long before everyone had finished eating, however, Mavramorn, Revilian, and Argoz, left the table one by one. It weighed on Rhoop's heart to see them so despondent, yet he could think of no words to say to them.

The king came to him as soon as the meal was over. Caspian was very young; Rhoop calculated he could be no older than seventeen. A mere boy, he held himself like a king; and yet at this moment uncertainty was written on his face.

"My Lord Rhoop," he said, shifting slightly from one foot to the other. "All is not well between you and … the others."

"Your majesty is perceptive," Rhoop said with a sigh. So the king wished him to simply forgive. It would not do to have the men he had come to rescue at odds with each other, especially not in the triumphant homecoming where they would be displayed before all his subjects.

"If you wish me to, I will speak personally to my lords Argoz, Revilian, and Mavramorn, bidding them seek your forgiveness or risk our extreme displeasure. They did you a great wrong."

"Sire," Rhoop gasped. How unjust his thoughts had been! "Sire, I …"

"I had thought that you might come back to Narnia with us," the king continued. "But if instead your wish is to remain here, Ramandu has promised you a place on this island for as long as you desire."

"Nay, sire," Rhoop said, recovering a bit. "I beg that you would not speak with them. I know that for love of me they did not ask my forgiveness; they are greatly ashamed."

"As well they should be," said the king.

"Do not judge them too harshly," said Rhoop, surprised to hear himself repeating the words Ramandu's daughter had spoken to him. "I know best how that island worked upon the mind." He paused. "As for remaining here, I will think on it."

"Very well." The king bowed. "Do not make your decision in haste. I intend to remain here some days longer."

Rhoop bowed in his turn and the king wandered away, though his wandering had something of the look of one who wished to seem nonchalant, but was making his way towards a goal. Rhoop almost smiled. If it was obvious that not all was well between him and his friends, it was almost as obvious that the king and the star's daughter were deeply in love. Again he thought of Gwen, and the days they had spent together when both were young and their lives were carefree; she had been more beautiful to him than all the women whose faces were fairer and whose forms were more shapely.

But he could not think about her at this moment. He must find his friends and speak to them. If he stayed on this island he might never find opportunity again, and he could not bear that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**  
 **A Wise Man Mends**

He found Argoz first, seated on a fallen tree trunk, gazing out at nothing. Rhoop had come nearly to his side when Argoz looked up. Rhoop had always thought his face regal, more king-like than Miraz's: a long nose, square jaw, and very fine eyes. Now it was drawn as if in pain, with eyes that darted about, looking anywhere but in Rhoop's direction.

He sat on the trunk beside Argoz and a long moment of silence followed. The words he needed would come; he was sure of it. They must come.

"Do not sit wordless," Argoz said at last. "Curse me for the faithless friend that I am, or leave me."

Rhoop drew a deep breath. "You once told me that cursing was futile, and that a truly wise man would choose his words to heal a wound rather than deepen it."

Argoz finally met Rhoop's eyes with his own haunted ones. "You cannot forgive me. If all happened again as before, I know that I would find no more courage than I did the first time." He smote his clenched fist against his heart. "I would end my own life if I were not a coward."

Rhoop took Argoz' hand and gently pulled the fingers apart so that the palm lay open. He put it between both his hands and waited until Argoz met his eyes once more: no longer a stranger, but his old friend eaten up with guilt so intense that it might bring him to his death.

"It may be that I cannot forget my long imprisonment," he said. "But I do not say that I cannot forgive. A man might well turn coward when his hidden fears are brought to life."

Argoz fell on his knees in a sudden rush of tears, but Rhoop pulled him to his feet with a quick sense of shame on his own part and embraced him.

"We have a new king now, a true king." Rhoop stepped back and put his hands on Argoz' shoulders. "Let us go back to Narnia together and serve him as we served his father."

"Yes, yes," Argoz muttered, wiping away his tears. "It will be good to see home again."

Rhoop walked away after some time, sensing that Argoz wished to be alone. When he looked back, Argoz was staring after him with a face that shone with new hope.

He hurried on, determined to find the other two, and at the seashore he came upon Revilian idly throwing stones and twigs into the water. The breakers rushed up to the rocks, drenching them both in a fine spray.

Revilian looked at him for a long moment before turning back and throwing a handful of rocks as hard as he could into the sea.

"My Lord Rhoop," he said, his voice calm and flat. He bowed his head and made as if to leave, but Rhoop grasped his shoulder.

"I wish to speak to you," he said.

Revilian waited, his eyes on the ground.

"My friend," Rhoop said, and then stopped, remembering. "The last I saw of you, you were seasick, were you not?"

"I was."

"Come then. A man as sick as you were is not himself." He half-smiled. "You look much recovered."

"I suppose seven years on land is enough to cure any man of seasickness," Revilian said. He did not smile, but his tone was lighter. Then he lowered his voice. "Mavramorn would not allow us to ask you for forgiveness. He said … that it would only dishonor you. I wish … I wish to ask it, though."

"I do forgive you," said Rhoop.

"Thank you." Revilian looked down. "I think we might have returned for you, if not for the sleep that fell upon us. I do not know. I tried to convince them to turn back to Narnia."

"It is of no consequence what might have been. Seven years was time enough to live on that island and I will dwell there no longer."

Revilian took his hand in a firm grip. "You always were the best man among us, Rhoop," he said.

Rhoop's face warmed at his words. Revilian looked a bit awkward.

"I suppose you will be looking for Mavramorn next? Or Argoz?"

"I have seen Argoz already."

"Mavramorn is that way." He pointed vaguely toward the center of the island.

Rhoop went in that direction. It took some time before he found him. Mavramorn sat facing away from him, as motionless as a rock.

"Mavramorn," he said.

His friend gave a quick glance in his direction, stood, and began to walk away.

"Stay," said Rhoop.

But Mavramorn set off and disappeared into the thickest part of the trees. Rhoop hung his head wearily. Perhaps he had tried to do it too quickly. He had had the greatest success with Revilian; Argoz was still broken, and it would take a long time before they were able to speak freely with each other again.

But Rhoop was determined to reconcile with Mavramorn. They had been friends too long to simply throw it away. He had gathered, from things he had heard at the table, that it had been Mavramorn who had taken up the stone knife that had sent all three into an enchanted sleep. Most likely, as the recognized leader of all the seven lords after Bern had parted from them, he felt no small amount of guilt for many of the tragedies that had waylaid them all throughout the voyage; not least the leaving of Rhoop in the darkness.

He wondered what he could say; Mavramorn was a proud man, and very attuned to his own faults. Perhaps he should leave him alone for a while. The voyage home would give them plenty of time to speak, and, he thought with a slight smile, Mavramorn could not escape him so easily on board such a small ship.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**  
 **A Debt Forgiven**

Rhoop stood at the rail of the Dawn Treader as she prepared to set sail. Caspian was already on board, along with Revilian, Argoz, Mavramorn, and most of the sailors.

They were only waiting for the last of the water casks to be loaded, and for Ramandu's daughter.

The wedding had been held the day before: a simple affair in which Rhoop had not been able to hold back a few tears. Perhaps it was because the bride had looked so beautiful in her gown of starry silver; or perhaps because it was exactly the kind of wedding he and Gwen had planned for themselves. Perhaps both.

Now the star and his daughter were saying their farewells in private. Caspian, a short distance away, gazed eastward into the sun as it rose. Rhoop did not understand how he, and the sailors, could do it without being blinded; the sun was so large and bright here near the end of the world.

*x*x*

They had fair sailing for some days. They passed the place where the Dark Island had been, but no trace of it was to be seen and Rhoop breathed more easily after that.

Mavramorn continued to avoid him, though Rhoop had heard Revilian ask him to 'let him speak with you, my lord. He does not hate you.'

Mavramorn had simply shaken his head and disappeared belowdecks.

One night, as they neared the place which the king ominously referred to as Deathwater, Rhoop could not sleep. His hammock seemed too narrow and the darkness pressed in on him. He had tried and failed, as he had for many nights in a row, to recall Gwen's face. On Ramandu's Island it had not troubled him. Here, he felt guilt for still allowing himself to think of her, and guilt that he could not remember even what she looked like.

After several hours of restless tossing, he got up and made his way to the deck.

The air was brisk and cold; the sails snapped and the ship creaked and groaned as she lay at anchor. Rhoop stamped his feet and paced up and down to warm himself.

The night watchman stood somewhere not far away; Rhoop could see the light from his lantern. But he had no wish for company tonight so he put more distance between them.

It was a lonesome night, and words to a lonely song, long forgotten, came to his mind. He began humming it under his breath as he paced.

Then, to his surprise, a dark shape by the opposite rail turned and looked at him. It was Mavramorn.

Aslan must have sent him up to the deck for this reason. But he felt rather hurt by his friend's constant refusal to speak to him. He nodded, but did not come any nearer, and Mavramorn went back to his place at the rail, melting into the shadows.

Rhoop resumed pacing, careful to stay on his side of the ship. He had done everything in his power to restore their friendship, and it was not he who had done the wrong. If Mavramorn wished to speak then he would listen, but there was nothing more he could do until then.

He did not look back towards Mavramorn again, and he started when, some minutes later, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Rhoop," Mavramorn said.

"Yes, Mavramorn?"

"May I walk with you?"

"Yes, of course."

They paced side by side in silence. Rhoop could almost feel Mavramorn trying to get up the courage to speak.

"Did I think too highly of myself?" Mavramorn said at last. "You are an honest man. Tell me."

"Every man does, to some degree," Rhoop said. "You are proud."

"I remember chiding you for cowardice, some years ago," Mavramorn continued. "That is what I mean. That I thought enough of my own courage that I could look down on you."

"You never looked down on me."

"Did I not? My father disliked our friendship; he said that you were from a family of less consequence than ours. There was a time when I felt that you were beneath me."

"But that was long ago."

"Perhaps. I feel now though as if I had always felt superior to you."

"You and Bern were our leaders," said Rhoop. "A leader is by nature superior to a follower."

"Only in certain ways." He paused and then said, in a voice so low that Rhoop hardly heard it. "I am ashamed."

"When I was rescued," Rhoop said, slowly. "Even the king himself would not stay there one moment longer, after I had told him what the island was. You cannot …" he searched for the right word. "You cannot hold yourself to a higher standard than our king."

"He is a mere boy. He was brought up by Miraz and has much to overcome in that respect. I have no such excuse."

Rhoop did not reply. They made almost a full circuit of the deck before Mavramorn spoke again.

"It was not only for your sake that I did not wish to ask your forgiveness. My own pride would not allow me … perhaps you can't understand. You are not a proud man."

Rhoop felt that a few more such flattering words as he had heard from Mavramorn and Revilian might well make him so, but he kept silent.

"You have given your forgiveness freely to Revilian and Argoz. I have wearied of having my friend near me but unable to speak to me. Rhoop," he stopped and seemed about to go down on his knee, but in the end he remained standing. "I know that I do not deserve it, but forgiveness is for guilty men, not those who have done no wrong. Do you forgive me?"

"Indeed I do," Rhoop said, his heart almost full to bursting.

Mavramorn bowed his head ever so slightly. "I am in your debt."

Rhoop reached out and grasped his hand. "Forgiven," he said. "I will not hold it against you."

Mavramorn sighed. "I am weary," he said. He turned quickly and walked away. Rhoop saw him draw his sleeve across his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**  
 **The Weary Find Rest**

They had smooth sailing for the entire voyage. Neither storm nor sea serpent troubled them. In the Lone Islands, Rhoop and his three friends were outfitted with new clothing fit for lords of Narnia. And Narnia grew closer day by day.

The king had told them all that had happened since Miraz was king, but Rhoop could hardly take it in. Talking animals. Spirits of waters and trees. Creatures called fauns and centaurs which were described to him, but he could not quite picture.

And then, of course, there was Gwen. He tried not to think about her, but it was so very difficult. He supposed that the king had all new staff at the great castle of Cair Paravel; though Gwen was never strictly staff, of course. But he supposed that there were old noble families who had come out of hiding, who would now be taking their places in court life.

Gwen was probably married and living a quiet life somewhere. Or perhaps she had gone through the doorway that Aslan had made. It was entirely possible. If there had been no place for her, or if her husband had gone as well, then … then it was for the best. Once this possibility had presented itself, he almost hoped that it was true. It would be better for her that way. It would be better for both of them.

In Galma, Mavramorn very suddenly announced after only a short time on that island that he and the Duke of Galma's daughter were to be married. Lady Mavramorn joined them in the voyage. And Narnia came closer.

On a day of brisk coolness, the lookout shouted, "Narnia!"

Everyone rushed to look; there was nothing but a thin line of land and something shining on the edge, too far away to be made out.

The ship was so slow. But not slow enough. Each hour brought him closer to a Narnia that he did not know; a strange land where everything was new, to which he came like a ghost.

The next morning, the king called the four lords together.

"We will be in Narnia within the hour. I shall disembark first with my wife beside me. Then Lord Mavramorn and Lady Mavramorn. After them, Lord Rhoop on the right, Revilian in the center, and Argoz on the left. I shall try to have you taken as quickly as possible to your rooms, but everyone will wish to see you at least." He smiled. "Welcome home, my lords."

He shook their hands each in turn and they departed to make ready. Rhoop combed his hair and made sure that his clothing was unwrinkled, his boots shined. By the time he came back, they were nearly there.

Cair Paravel rose up before him, situated on a low hill overlooking the sea. Turrets, towers, shining windows; so much greater than the castle of the Telmarine kings. So different. There must be three hundred rooms there.

Everyone crowded to the side to look as the Dawn Treader pulled into the quay. A blast of trumpets met them; the gangplank was lowered. Everyone took his positions and then, led by Caspian, they marched forward.

The crowd on the quay buzzed with loud excitement. Cheers. Laughing and shouting. Rhoop kept looking straight ahead for as long as he could; all those eyes, all those people, most of whom had never known him, now staring at him with curiosity like some exotic creature brought back from the world's end.

At last, however, he turned his head. Centaurs, those must be centaurs. Tall, proud men to the waist, and the strong, glossy body of a horse. They were very impressive …

"Rhoop!"

He stopped. Had he heard his name over all that noise? The voice … surely not. A beloved voice that he had longed to hear. Someone pushed through the crowd, through the centaurs: a tall woman, her hair loose, her eyes shining, her arms outstretched. It could not be. But it was.

Before he had time even to say her name she had thrown herself into his arms. Was it possible? She had waited. She had _waited_. For _him_. Oh Aslan, she had waited.

The cheers of the crowd around him were like distant breakers on the sand. Nothing else mattered. Gwen had waited. He was home.

 _Finis_


End file.
